Potential HouseMASH crossover
by Eagles Meow
Summary: Questions about potential House/MASH crossovers. I'm sticking this in House for now, I'm usually more interested in writing in his POV. T for language Hey, I put Hawkeye and House in a room together. There will be language!
1. Chapter 1

Okay guys, I have a question. If I wrote a House, MD and M*A*S*H crossover, would anyone want to read it? I promise I can get this done, but I'm not going to post anything if nobody wants to read it.

I have a few ideas for different possible fanfics, I'll outline them. _Please_ leave a review if you'd like to read a crossover, and possibly which one you'd like most.

Mind you, all three will involve a _willing suspension of disbelief_. I hope that's not too much to ask for. These two shows are set about sixty years apart. I'm not usually into the "time machine" fics, as I tend to think of them. Mostly, I'll just ignore the difference completely, just treating Korea and the 4077th as something "else", with different rules (anything in Korea will be set in the 50s, anything in the US will be in or around 2010, unless otherwise stated.)

A/N: I own nothing. Don't bother suing me; I don't have any money.

_Idea One_

Some people are delusional. And others simply hate me. How there could be so many idiots in the army to actually let someone with a limp into a war zone, I'll never know. All I know is, my father must have some pretty good connections, to get me drafted. I'm far over the limit to be drafted, and not in great physical shape. Twenty years ago, back when I was thirty, I can see myself getting drafted, but not so much anymore.

Too bad John is still hanging on to his dream, seeing _his_ son in the military. If only I could set him straight on that count. _His _son isn't in the army; _his_ son doesn't exist, both in the figurative and literal sense of the idea.

Delusional or not, he managed to get me onto the bumpiest plane known to man, headed for Korea.

* * *

_Idea Two_

Nolan stared at me, a calculating look on his face. "Gregory, I find it extremely hard to believe that you never made _any_ friends. It's human nature to make friends, even if they're only temporary, and, contrary to popular belief, you _are_ human."

I looked down. "Okay, fine. I made a friend, _once_.

My parents and I had been stationed in the States, soon after coming back from Egypt. I was maybe nine at the time. It was my first time in the States since I was very small. I was an outcast, since I hadn't had the same experiences as the other boys-we were stationed in this tiny town; I'm still not sure why. This was the first time I hadn't lived on a military base, but one kid took me in. He was ten, and named Benjamin. His father was the local doctor."

"Was this the first time you'd encountered a man of that age who wasn't in the military?" I nodded quietly. "Interesting. What else do you have to say?"

"I came to Ben's house often. His dad was nice, he never raised his voice. He was close to his son, and kind to me.

We moved a year later. I felt...guilty. Ben's mother died a few weeks before we moved. I never heard from him again. I wasn't _there_, he was there whenever John was mean, why couldn't I return the favor?"

"Do you have any happy memories of then?"

_Idea Three_

A/N: I'd been toying with this idea on my own for a while, so I've got a bit more of this. I'll just post the first few words here, more later, maybe.

Anyways, this is a bit un-edited and rambly, but you get the point.

I grew far more than I would have liked in Korea. It was almost unavoidable in a way, but it really isn't pleasant all the same. Crabapple Cove has become far, far too small for me. Dad understands, he always has. I've decided that I need to take a break from small towns. I'm going to look for a job further south, probably in Boston or New York. Somewhere large, where I won't have to deal with gossips. "_He's changed_", they titter behind hands. _"Dear little Ben isn't the same as he was a few years ago," _they whisper to each-other, when they think I don't notice. I'm not their little Ben anymore. The town doesn't understand it, they've never known death and destruction like I have. I need to go somewhere I can be anonymous, another doctor in another city. Someday, I'd like to have a job where I know all my patients' names, and families, and everything, where I see them at the store, and at the park, but not today. Today, I need to get away from the memories. I've got a few interviews scheduled, up and down New England, and one as far down as New Jersey. It's a very prestigious hospital, or so I hear. I wouldn't know, though. Before I got drafted, I'd always expected just to help out Dad with something local, so I never paid attention to who was doing what and where. It seems like decades ago that I got the letter, telling me that I was going to Korea.

The interviews in New York and Boston were disappointments. I'd forgotten why I wanted to work with Dad in Crabapple Cove in the first place; large hospitals are far too concerned with making money, and far too unconcerned with their patients' health. I really don't want to have to deal with endless bureaucracy; I just want to save as many lives as I possibly can. People shouldn't die if they don't have to. The young men in Korea, still just children, didn't have to die. My _mother_ didn't have to die. Nobody should have to die due to the ignorance and utter stupidity of a doctor, not in this century, not of something curable.

I quietly entered the dean of medicine's office. I immediately noticed that it was different, not like the other offices I'd been to. It was dark, yet somehow still warm. I knew of this person, a woman, one of the few women this high up in the chain of command. It was comforting, in an odd way I was reminded of Margaret. Her tent had the same feminine touch in a mostly masculine job.

The dean herself finally bustled in. "Lisa Cuddy. Good to meet you." She looked confused and a bit frazzled.

I smiled to myself, that look was quite familiar, she really was just like Margaret. "Benjamin Franklin Pierce, I'm here for the job interview, I'm a surgeon."

A flash of understanding passed over her face, and she smiled, relived. "So, Dr. Pierce, I heard you had some questions? I'd love to answer them."

For the first time since Korea, I bothered correcting somebody about this, "please, it's Hawkeye." She raised her eyebrow but didn't comment. "I just want to make sure this hospital is a good match for me. I want to _save lives_, not make money. That's been my primary concern with the other job offers I've had."

This guy was good. I'd heard he was, and I could already tell that he could be a vital asset to the hospital. I also noticed that he had the potential to be a major headache. It's bad enough trying to keep House in line, from what I'd heard of Dr. Pierce's reputation, he is just as bad, worse at times.

But, I should be able to handle him, and he _would_ be good for the hospital in the long run. He's a world-class surgeon, but he wants to work _here, _instead of at a bigger hospital. Besides, I was good enough with House. I'd always heard how the second child is never as bad as the first one.

"Well, I think I'll accept your offer."

I was dumbfounded. Hadn't he ever heard of the proper etiquette in these situations? Negotiations, arrangements. I started to get nervous. Maybe two insane, childlike doctors in the same hospital wouldn't be such a good idea, after all. "What, no negotiations?"

He looked confused. "Did I do something wrong? I haven't ever actually gotten a job, I was in Korea for most of the time since school."

I smiled encouragingly. "You could have negotiated. Don't you want a better parking space or _something_?"

He thought for a minute, then laughed. "No, not really. I don't care where I park. I don't need more pay, I'm in my forties, single, no children. I don't have a big house. My expenses are almost none. You offered me the job I want, I'm taking it."

Well, at least this child doesn't play mind games. "Very well then, when do you want to start?"

"How quickly can the paperwork be filled out? Who works here, anyways? My life story is pretty much working locally for my father for most of my life, other than that. I never really kept track of big hospitals. I have experience, three years of 'meatball surgery', but I haven't really ever worked in a big hospital."

Well, he seems reasonable, and he'll be a big asset to the hospital. "You can start tomorrow, just getting a feel for the place. Our policy is to have you follow someone for the first few days, make sure you don't get lost." Who to make him shadow? All my surgeons are busy, he'll have to make do with shadowing another department head. Wilson's busy, or I'd make him do it, he's good with the newcomers. I might as well get this over with, these two will invariably meet soon enough. "I'll tell the head of diagnostics to expect you in his office tomorrow. Don't let him intimidate you. As long as you don't act like an idiot, you'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for a meeting. See you tomorrow."

And with that, I rushed out of my office, leaving him staring, bewildered, after me.


	2. Idea Two, chapter two

A/N: Okay, I've thought of a way to sort this out. It'll probably give my readers headaches, but it works. I'll post chapters for all three stories as they come into my head, titling them so you can sort out which is which.

Disclaimer: I don't own House. I don't own MASH. We all knew that, though, right?

* * *

Hiatus warning: Expect a hiatus from the ninth to the twentieth of May. I will have no internet access, so nothing will be posted.

"Of course I have happy memories of back then. I wasn't always a heartless bastard, you know. It may seem like it, but it isn't true.

Benjamin "Hawkeye" Pierce had the most amazing house. It was this old cottage, from back before the Revolution. It didn't look like much, but it always had this aura of perfect domestic bliss. Hawk's mom, Angela, was always nice to me, and his dad liked to joke around with the two of us.

I remember the first time the two of them learned about...how John treated me. I hadn't meant for it to happen; I'd known them for a month or two, they seemed nice, but I didn't want to bother their world with ugly realities such as my life.

However, Hawk saw...

He saw John leaving me out in the yard. We were neighbors; he climbed a tree. He told his parents.

It was the first time someone talked to me, and told me that what he was doing wasn't ok. They were there for me.

Why couldn't I have been there for him? His mother died, and before the shock wore off, John transferred us to a new base. He _needed_ me, and I wasn't there.

Never trust anyone.


	3. Idea One, chapter two

Colonel Potter led me into his office.

"Hawkeye, how much room is there in the Swamp?"

I thought for a moment. We'd had guests over before, but in general, it's a tight enough squeeze with the three of us.

"It really depends on who's in it. As you know, we've fit the whole camp in, for movie night. Most of the time, we do well, as long as everyone respects the personal space of everyone else. Why do you ask?"

"Well, we've finally gotten our request for some more hands around here fulfilled. A major by the name of House, a doctor, is coming, for keeps. I was wondering if your Swamp could take a fourth roommate?"

"_Colonel_, not _more_ regular army! I mean, you're okay and all, but that's different."

"Hold your horses, Pierce. Don't judge your new camp-mate until he's here. So, can you fit him?"

"Well, there's enough room in the Swamp for him, but emotionally, it'll probably be a tight squeeze."

"I can live with that. He's arriving in a few hours. Go get Radar or Klinger. Tell you what, you can come too. Last time you were the first to get to our newest camp-mate, you forever turned him your way. Let's see if you can manage that again."

I stormed off, out of Potter's office. Aside from a certain blonde beauty, we haven't had much luck with majors.

I brought Radar, for old times' sake. He was with me when we brought BJ home.

When we arrived, I stared at the boy. "Radar, fetch!"

Radar looked at me for a minute, then smiled. "Yes sir-Hawkeye-I'll go find that Major."

Radar walked up to a passing major. "Excuse me Sir, have you seen a Major House?"

"Try the bar."

Radar nodded, running back to me. Sometimes I'd swear he's my personal puppy. "Hawk, that major told me to try the bar!"

I had heard him myself, but it wasn't worth the effort to correct him, so I just led him over to the bar.

It was hard to tell who we were looking for. I knew he was a Major, but nothing more. There must have been twenty majors there, maybe more. There'd been a large influx of higher ranking officers recently, explaining the crowd.

Radar stayed outside this time. We didn't want to have to go through that whole rank-faking ordeal again. The first time was odd enough.

I decided to try this the direct way. It wasn't like I'd ever see any of them again, excluding the Major. Drawing in a deep breath, I asked sharply, "Okay, which one of you is House? I'm here to take you to your new cesspool."

A man a few years older than me looked up from the bar. "Here."

I walked over to him. "Come."

He stared angrily at me. "Why the hell should I? This is stupid. I shouldn't be here."

I laughed at his statement. "None of us _should_ be here. Deal with it."

House rolled his eyes. "I better get going, then." He was still staring at me, but now it seemed more calculating, like he was trying to judge how I'd react to him.

House picked up a cane. I hadn't noticed it before, I'd been too distracted, trying to judge what sort of doctor he'd be.

He seemed to limp quite a bit, and I wondered if he was right, and he _shouldn't _be here. We may not be right on the front lines, but we get our fair share of the action.

"Just us?"

I shook my head. "No, Radar's waiting outside, with the jeep."

"Radar? Whatever. Look, I don't want to be here. I shouldn't be here. _Nothing_ about me is your business. I just want to stay here, alive, until this ends, and I can go back to New Jersey."

I knew better. I knew that it isn't possible to live in the close quarters of the 4077th, and _not_ end up caring, but I didn't correct him. If he wants to think that, go ahead. I could only hope he'd change his attitude before we had _another_ patient for Sidney.

"Fair enough." Radar found us, following me closely. "This is Radar. If he tells you we've got wounded, listen to him."

The man nodded. "What do I call you?"

"Hawkeye. It's from a book."

"Of course." he muttered. "John _had_ to get me stuck in a cesspool with a bunch of freaks. He must be _real_ proud of his son now."

I repeated the stranger's cold mantra to myself. _Not my business, not my business._

"Call me House. Not Gregory, not Greg, not Major. Just 'House'."

House raised an eyebrow when he saw the jeep. "_This_ is your primary method of commuting?"

Radar smiled. "Yessir. It's the only thing that can survive for very long around here."

House and I both rolled our eyes. Only Radar could be so oblivious.

I had a feeling that House wasn't going to get along very well with Radar. "Radar, why don't I drive on the way back? I haven't had anything to drink this time."

House raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Probably since we picked him up at the bar.

A/N: Expect another chapter of this next, from House's POV, maybe a bit shorter, and then maybe I'll post more of idea three. I'm getting lots of writing done this week, since I've been bringing my laptop to school, and writing on the thirty minute bus ride.


	4. Idea One, chapter three

A/N: Once again, I own nothing!

A/N: This hasn't been edited very well, sorry.

* * *

I looked at the jeep in apprehension. It was quite a ways up for Radar, one of the two people whom I'd now met, whom I'd share a camp with, probably until the end of the war.

My skill at entering a tall vehicle is even less than his. I'd taught myself how to ride a motorcycle a while back, but that was different. I tend to buy cars that were low to the ground, to avoid this problem.

Radar and Hawkeye were looking expectantly at me. I could tell that Radar hadn't guessed why I didn't get in too. He was sitting in the back of the jeep, perched on a dusty seat, staring at me.

The older man seemed a bit smarter. He was actually assessing the height into the car-and my leg.

I hate pity from anyone, but I know that sometimes, there are perfectly good reasons. This might be one of them.

I glared at him, letting him know that this was no fun whatsoever for me. "Well? What are you waiting for? Give me a hand up, so we can get _out_ of here."

Hawkeye smiled slightly. "Wondering when you'd ask."

He reached out a hand. "Give me a second!" I snapped, lifting my bad leg up to the jeep. Normally, I would have just stepped in with my left leg, then pushed up quick enough to keep from falling back in, but it had stiffened up on me, back on the plane. Fourteen hours is a long time to stay seated, for anyone. I knew that if I tried to get on the vehicle like normal, I'd collapse before I could push myself into the seat.

My leg was complaining, it didn't like to stay in such a position for so long. I hooked my cane onto the door, clutching the jeep with one hand, and grabbed Hawkeye's hand, propelling myself upwward with my left leg, trying to get it in quickly enough that I wouldn't fall back to the ground.

It worked in a way, as I got into the seat, but it wasn't graceful, and it hurt. My right leg buckled soon after I switched my weight to that side of my body. Hawkeye kept me from falling back to the ground, so I collapsed into the seat with a thud, biting my lip to keep from screaming.

I stared angrily at the ledge, it was short enough that nobody _else_ had a problem getting in. Radar looked at me. "Gee Sir, are you alright Sir?" I wanted to snap at him, but knew from experience that if I opened my mouth at this moment, all that would come out is a scream.

Hawkeye covered this one for me. "Radar, why don't we leave House alone for a while? It's not really any of our business how he feels."

Radar nodded. "Sir, if you need anything, poke me."

I acknowledged him with a grunt of approval, and we sped away.

The jeep was just as bumpy as it appeared. My leg was already killing me, from the plane, and the gymnastics, trying to get _into_ the vehicle. I hadn't imagined that actually riding it would be worse, not better.

It was, though. Soon after we'd gotten out of there, and into the wilderness, I started clutching my leg. It was in full revolt right now. I could feel the muscle spasming, contracting wildly beneath my hand. I yelled in agony as we hit a particularly big pothole, and I was thrown a good three inches into the air.

Clamping my mouth tightly shut, I curved over my leg, squeezing it for dear life. "Pull...over" I managed to gasp out. Hawkeye nodded, pulling over to the side of the road. Radar jumped out before me, helping me out of the death-trap.

I collapsed about two feet from it, and started retching violently. I was dimly aware that Hawkeye had gotten out, and was bracing me on the left, holding me upright.

I retched until it turned into dry heaves, then continued a bit further, until my stomach calmed down. Of course, this only meant that my leg could take center stage.

When I fell to the ground, my legs had folded underneath me, forcing me into a kneeling position. Now, they were complaining, having been forced into this position, probably for somewhere around twenty minutes.

Hawkeye seemed to notice. "Radar, straighten out his left leg." I couldn't hear anything after that, as Hawkeye picked up my leg, and I blacked out.

I came to a bit later. I was on the jeep again, in the back. My legs were propped up on a blanket. Radar was staring at me. "Hawkeye? I think he's coming around."

"m-hm" Hawkeye acknowledged this, but didn't even slow down. "Radar, we're in the middle of enemy territory. I'm going to need you to do this for me."

I tried to sit up, but didn't quite succeed. I did manage to open my eyes, though. Radar was staring at me. "Uh, sir, I don't think you should do that. Hawkeye said that you shouldn't be able to even _try_ to sit up for at least twenty minutes after you woke up."

I groaned. "Well, how long do we have until we arrive at the camp?"

Hawkeye answered this. "fifteen minutes, give or take."

"Give or take what?" I asked, exasparated.

Hawkeye chuckled. "Fifteen minutes, give or take two hours. You might want to have a conversation with Radar, this might take a while."

I didn't really want to, but Radar initiated one. "So, sir, what takes you to our neck of the woods? Me 'n Hawkeye were drafted."

"Same."

Hawkeye laughed. "_Majors_ don't get drafted by the US army. They don't want someone with so much resentment so high up in the chain of command."

"Psh. Who said I was drafted by them? I was drafted by my father."

Hawkeye considered. "Your leg? I would have thought even the _army_ would have enough sense to reject you from this place."

I sighed. I was tired. "It's amazing what people will belive. Other than this, I'm healthy, and technically, there _should_ be no pain. Damaged nerves can be ignored on an army report."

Hawkeye's hands clenched the steering wheel. "Those..." He trailed off, but I could understand his point.

"Radar, how much longer until we get to camp?"

"Well, sir, we're here."

I looked up. I saw a few tiny, dusty tents, and a handmade sign, proudly proclaiming their camp to the world. I would have noticed more, but I was a bit hazy from the pain. It had been a long day, and I couldn't wait for it to be over.

Hawkeye parked the jeep outside one of the few buildings with walls. Temporary walls, but not canvas. "Need a hand?"

I shook my head. No way was I going to come in leaning on someone else. Gingerly, I turned, gently guiding my body to the door. Hawkeye waited patiently next to me.

I dropped down onto my good leg, but couldn't catch myself in time, with nothing to hold on to, and I collapsed onto the ground. At least I didn't scream this time, just grunted.

Hawkeye lifted me back up. "You okay in there?"

I nodded. "Where to next?" I needed to work out some of the stiffness.

"Colonel Potter's tent. He runs our little hellhole, you're supposed to report to him so he can see what's going on. You're the first new bit of help we've gotten in years."

Hawkeye gave me my cane, as I disentangled myself from his support. I gingerly tested out my balance, putting my foot flat on the ground with a grimace.

It held, barely. Hawkeye led me a few short steps over to the building, watching me. I was leaning almost all my weight on my arm, when I took a step with my good foot.

A man maybe a bit older than my father looked up when I came in. He quickly noticed the limp, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell me _another_ one of your cohorts got bombed on the way in?"

I glared at him, but Hawkeye beat me to the answer. "Good afternoon to you too, Colonel. No, he was like this when I got him. Apparently, he's good enough for a combat area as-is."

"Is that so? Well, I can't say I agree, but it's good to have some more hands around here. You must be tired from your trip. Hawk can show you to the Swamp so you can get settled, and we'll show you around tomorrow." I nodded, and the colonel dismissed us.

Hawkeye offered to take my bags out from the jeep to the Swamp, whatever that is. He looked closely at the jeep, then took out my duffle bag, raising an eyebrow. "You shipping the rest of your stuff?"

"Nope. That's it."

"Why? Most of us brought a whole trunk of stuff."

I didn't want to tell him too much about my history, but I needed to get my leg up before I fell down, and he didn't seem to want to let this go. "Take me to my room. I'll tell you in there.

* * *

A/N: I don't know how long it would take to get to Korea in the fifties. However, in this century, it's fourteen hours to Hong Kong, and the plane comes down from the north, so it would take less time to get to Korea. I figure it's reasonable if you compensate for the advances in technology since then, so go with it.

A/N: I usually don't like to hold out for reviews, but I just thought I'd remind you that they can make chapters come quicker!


	5. Idea One, chapter four

House seemed to be reluctant about telling me why he didn't bring a trunkful of Stateside mementoes, like everyone else here at the 4077th. Eventually, he answered. "Tell you when we get to my room." I could see that he was leaning heavily on his cane, so I decided not to push, instead discreetly holding him up as we made our way to the Swamp.

I dropped his bag onto the footlocker on the spare cot, then helped him down onto it. He sat down heavily, with my help, then picked up his leg and placed it on the bed. He didn't just elevate it, keep it straight, he actually lifted it like it was a foreign object. What was the army thinking, sending someone like this into a war zone?

"Mind passing me my bag?" House was clutching his leg tightly, and looked far too white.

I nodded, tossing him the small bag. I guess it was big enough, but it was small compared to mine, and tiny compared to BJ's.

He opened it, and pulled out a vial of pills from the side pocket. Swallowing a few dry, he leaned back slightly. "That should start to kick in soon. In the meantime..." He pulled out a pillow. It was pretty big, even for a normal place. Here, it was absolutely massive.

House stuck the pillow under his leg, grimacing a little as he moved the leg into position, with the pillow directly beneath his knee.

I sat on my own bed, and waited patiently for him to recover a little bit of color.

About ten or twenty minutes later, he relaxed a bit. I guessed the pills had kicked in. I had to wonder what they were. The closest thing I'd ever seen to them was plain old ibuprofen, but I knew it _couldn't _be that. House had said damaged nerves earlier, and it didn't seem possible that _ibuprofen_ could be prescribed for nerve damage.

"Where were we?" House sat up a bit, propping himself up with his arms. "Ah yes, my bag. Well, the short answer is that I'm an army brat by nature. I may not like it, but it's true. I learned to pack light. I don't _have_ many mementos in general. I brought a pillow, some pills, and a few changes of clothes. I also brought a tennis ball. That's pretty much it."

Army brat? He didn't seem to be the type. "We've got another one of those here, name of Margaret Houlihan. Maybe you two have something in common?"

"Probably not." This man didn't seem to be big on small talk. "I'm not always like this. It's been a long few days. If you just give me the rest of the day, I should be pretty much up and running by morning."

I shrugged. Once again, I had to remind myself that all of this came under the heading of _not my business._

"Fair enough. Potter will probably want to take you on a tour tomorrow. You'll probably meet our roommates then too. They're at the Officer's Club right now."

I looked over at him when he didn't answer. He was asleep.

A/N: Shorter chapter today people, sorry. I might post more of idea three next, or more of this. I'm liking the first and third ideas best.

Does anyone want pairings in this thing (or any of the other ideas)? I'm open to any and all pairings (slash and no slash, though the minefield of slash in MASH might be a bit tricky (remember Frank's reaction during that one episode?)), but I don't do graphic anything. I don't really have personal preferences for pairings in House or MASH. I'm also willing to do a crossover pairing with House and any of the MASH people, or Hawkeye and any of the PPTH employees, but I don't think I could do House and Hawkeye very well as anything but friends.


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